Battle of the Bands
by Christin Picks the Banjo
Summary: Takes a peek into Jack's college days... some humor, some romancing... Chapter two is up. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

What up, fellas? Heehee, Garrett Hedlund has a gigantic tongue. I had to write a fic about him. Enjoy. Oh. And someone told me, "This fic doesn't make sense, Jack probably didn't go to college." I say sucks to your logic, girlie. For the purpose of this STORY (if I could put the word 'STORY' in bold, glowing, italic, underlined, strike-thru, highlighted lettering, I would) he's a college student. Musical scholarship or something, okay? AUTHOR'S PEROGATIVE! CRIPES! I hate exclamation points. Ahem.

* * *

"Come on, Lorna."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll give you something."

"You don't _have_ anything. No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

Such was the substance of mine and Jack Mercer's conversations as of late. Jack was putting together a band, and for some unfathomable reason (having nothing to do with the fact that his band was, to put it mildly, absolutely horrible) he couldn't find a bass player. He'd taken to following me around campus begging me, bribing me, threatening me with swift death to join his Battle of the Bands project. Today was no different. I had just come out of a killer presentation for my media class, was totally ready for a nap, and not really in the mood to be badgered about joining some ill-fated, sure-to-be-ridiculed band. But Jack was being persistent.

"Come on! We need some uh... womanly flair in the band. Oh, and how cool and popular will you be if you play bass for us?"

"Jack. That's so incredibly lame. I can't believe you just tried the popularity card. What is this, high school? Really, I expected better of you," I said rolling my eyes and pushing past him.

"Lor, you're the best bassist I know!" he pleaded, catching up and grabbing my shoulder bag, hoisting it over _his_ shoulder, then grabbing my books as well.

"Yeah, meaning I'm too good to play with you guys!" I retorted jokingly, allowing him to carry my stuff.

"Lor... Lorie... Lorna..." Jack pouted his lower lip, "Look, I'm walking you to your dorm, I'm carrying your books, how good am I to you? Oh! And remember that time I did your laundry for you?"

"Jack, you were doing an entire load of _your_ laundry and I threw in a pair of my gym shorts. That's hardly doing my laundry for me."

"Yes, _but_, I folded those shorts and brought them right to your door, did I not? And anyway, this is _not_ about the laundry, it's about you and me and Russ and Tai rocking out this Friday."

"_Tai_? Good Lord, Jack, Tai can't keep a beat to save his life!"

"Yeah, but if he hits the drums hard enough, no one will even notice."

"I'm gonna look so stupid up there with the rest of you sucking, you know," I said quietly, with a small grin, wondering how long it would take him to notice that I had acquiesced to his cajoling.

"Please please please please Lorna, I'll--" he stopped short.

I smiled.

"YOU'RE IN?" he shouted.

"I guess I'm totally insane, but I'll do it," I said with a long, dramatic sigh.

"HELL YES!" he hollered, dropping my books and bag, leaning down and scooping me into a bone crushing hug.

"Jack! You're smashing my rib cage!" I gasped, kicking my feet as I had been totally lifted off the ground. This only prompted him to hug me even tighter. He planted a huge, wet kiss on my cheek before setting me down.

"Sorry I dropped your books," he said without the slightest hint of remorse in his tone, scooping them back up and shoving them into my arms, "Practice over at Russ's tonight, I'll swing by around 7 and we'll walk over together." He threw the strap to my bag over my head (nearly choking me) gave me one last quick hug, declared me a life-saver, then ran off in total jubilation.

As I traipsed back to my dorm, I felt decidedly rattled. Why in the world had I agreed to play with Jack and his stupid little band? Jack was pretty good, I'd heard him tinker around on the guitar, and he had a unique voice, but the rest of the guys? Russ "Three Chord" Carmichael and Tai Harris whose main motivation for playing the drums was that he got to hit things?

"Stupid, stupid Lorna," I scolded, dropping my books and bag next to my bed and falling back onto the comforter. I gratefully kicked my shoes off and was asleep almost instantly... not before the thought occurred to me that Jack was always able to talk me into doing things for him...

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Reviews... please. I don't even care if they're nice. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

1Thanks for reviewing the last chapter. You know, I just have to be honest about something. I'm not one of those people who... hmm... how do I say this? Well, I don't exactly... update often. So sorry if this isn't progressing as fast as you'd like. Also, you guys leave reviews, and I totally dig on that. But would it kill you folks to capitalize "I" as a personal pronoun? "I really like your story." That's like making yourself... I dunno, an animal or something. Does a dog like my story? You're a human being and you're important enough to be a proper noun! So CAPITALIZE! I hate exclamation points.

* * *

"You look gross," Jack informed me as I answered the door. I'm sure he was right. I had just barely awoken from about a four hour nap. My hair was sticking up everywhere, my clothes were frumpled, and I was squinting through tired eyes.

"Wow, thanks Jackie, you really know how to make a girl feel pretty," I mumbled, stepping aside so he could come in.

"Don't call me Jackie. And I'm just teasing you. You look fine," he laughed, picking up my bass and falling back onto the bed.

"Make yourself at home," I said, rubbing my eyes.

"Get _yourself_ ready," he ordered, roughly picking out a melody on the guitar in his hands.

I rolled my eyes and opened my closet door. Stepping inside, I pulled off my wrinkled clothes, then hurried into a pair of jeans, an old baseball t-shirt and ratty sneakers.

Upon my exiting of the closet, Jack whistled.

"Lookin' good," he said approvingly.

"Are you kidding?" I asked, glancing at my reflection in the mirror, "I look like a dude."

"I was actually referring to the fact that if you leave the closet door open... like you just did... and undress in the closet, I can see you in the reflection of the mirror. You uh... well, you don't look like a dude."

"Jack Mercer! What's your problem!" I shrieked, crossing my arms across my chest.

He just laughed, "Don't cover 'em up! That damage has already been done!"

He laughed so hard he had a coughing fit and nearly choked. Served him right...

* * *

"It's called a CHORD TRANSITION, Russ! My God... and are you even in the right key? The rest of us are in E, what the HELL are you doing?" Jack was screaming at Russ, not necessarily because he was _that_ angry, but because even though the rest of us had stopped playing, Tai was still beating the hell out of the drums.

"TAI! KNOCK IT _OFF_!" I yelled, picking up my bottle of water and launching it at him. It collided with the high hat, knocking it over, but at least it grabbed his attention.

"What?" Tai asked innocently, his big brown eyes blinking through drops of water.

I nearly laughed, but I was still fairly frustrated over the overwhelming lack of talent in the room. Like I said before, Jack was good, and I could deal with him leading the band, but Russ and Tai just sucked. I was already feeling a migraine coming on, and we'd only been practicing for a little over an hour.

"Jack, I'm going out for a smoke," I declared, unstrapping my bass and nearly running from the room.

"Yeah, uh, go ahead," he called distractedly after me, before rounding on Russ and berating him over some musical short coming or another.

I stepped out into the warm August night air and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God I was out of that room. I didn't really feel like smoking... I'd left my pack at home anyway, but it felt good to get away from the loud sounds... and heavy smells of Russ' place.

For about the thousandth time since we'd started practicing that evening, I wondered why in the hell I'd allowed Jack to talk me into playing with his band. I recalled for the second time that day how Jack could convince me to do anything for him. Play in his band, help him with projects for his tougher classes (Jack was, in that respect, a true music major. He really struggled with his 'academic' classes), drive him home when he was too drunk after a party... it was always something.

It suddenly dawned on me that it totally wasn't a bother. Had it been anyone else, their dependancy upon my help may have annoyed me, even seemed as if I was being taken advantage of, but Jack just didn't have it in him to take advantage of me, or anybody, for that matter. I was almost flattered that he relied on me so much.

I took a deep breath and prepared to plunge back into the cacophony of crappy sound, when the door flew open, practically knocking me in the face.

"Jesus, Jack!" I yelped, jumping backwards.

"Sorry, Lor," he muttered, brushing past me to lean up against the brick wall outside Russ' dingy apartment complex. He sighed and furrowed his brow.

"You got a cigarette?" he asked after a moment's silence.

"No," I admitted sheepishly.

"Thought you came out for a smoke," he said, amusement traced in his low voice.

I shrugged and gave him an innocent smile. He smiled back briefly, before his smile gave way to a long sigh.

"Why'd I think this would work, Lor?" he asked, sliding down the wall into a sitting position.

I sank down next to him, with silence as my only answer to his question.

He was silent as well.

"Ready to go?" he asked after a while.

"Before we even got here," I answered.

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Yeah, lame ending for a chapter... but trust me, I've got so many ideas brewing in my head, I wrote some more stuff out today for following chaps. Next chapter will be up within the week, maybe Friday night or Saturday morning. Go me! And go you! That means... review!

And freaking... duh... someone asked me if this was a Jack/Lorna romance. I don't mean to be rude, but are you kidding? Of course it is. Sorry to spoil the surprise. Ha!


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